"I see just how the land lies now. She has gone to Cuba for her health, and you are pining away in solitude in the frozen north. But, Ned, didn't you write me that the affair had slipped up, fallen through, or something of that sort?"
"I thought it had; but I didn't know myself," replied the lover, with a sigh.
"O, ho! I see. She's a beautiful girl. Upon my word, I envy you, Ned. If you hadn't stepped in before me, my dear fellow, I should have fallen into that trap myself."
"Don't say anything about a trap, Tom. You make me shudder."
"What ails you, Ned? Isn't it all smooth—the course of true love, and all that sort of thing? Has she given you the mitten?"
"No, no. Everything is lovely so far as she is concerned."
"Is her father inimical? Does her mother dislike you, or her grandmother frown upon your hopes?"
"No. Her father and mother are entirely satisfied to let the affair take its course."
"Then what are you moping about?" demanded Tom.
"The opposition comes from my father," answered Edward, as he tacked the boat, and stood off on a long stretch, evidently with the intention of telling his friend all about it.